Gudsriki

Readers love
Valhalla

by
A
RI
B
ACH

“…when it's not making you laugh, it'll make you think….”

—Lesbrary

“…it's well-written and very original for the right reader. I recommend it for science-fiction fans…”

—Hearts on Fire

“This is a very good book, full of action and intrigue.”

—Glen Hates Books

By
A
RI
B
ACH

V
ALHALLA

Valhalla

Ragnarök

Guðsríki

Published by
H
ARMONY
I
NK
P
RESS

http://www.harmonyinkpress.com

Published by

H
ARMONY
I
NK
P
RESS

5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886  USA

[email protected]
•
harmonyinkpress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Guðsríki

© 2015 Ari Bach.

Cover Art

© 2015 Ari Bach.

Cover Design

© 2015 Paul Richmond

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Harmony Ink Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or [email protected]

ISBN: 978-1-62380-110-6

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62380-735-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015912450

First Edition October 2015

Printed in the United States of America

This paper meets the requirements of

ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

 

 

T
HERE
WERE
crosses everywhere in those days, all across America. They hung on people's walls. They covered Bibles, which you could buy at any bookstore. They stood tall on churches, for there were hundreds of churches in every big city. Even Jessica had a small silver cross on her necklace.

As she sat watching her son, a knock came at the door.

Jessica pushed herself up out of the chair. Her back hurt. She'd given birth days ago, but her back still hurt like hell. She opened the lock and saw a handsome man of about forty with brown curly hair.

“Hello, ma'am, I came over to see the miracle.”

“Oh, yes,” she said cheerfully, “come on in.”

She led him past the couch to Andy Jr.'s crib. He gazed down in adoration.

“Just look at that, a little baby… boy?”

“Yes. His name is Andrew, after his father.”

“And where is Andy Jr.'s daddy today?”

“Afghanistan. Gets back soon. He was supposed to get a phone call this morning, but—I'm sorry, please, have a seat.”

He sat on the couch.

“Well, it's a shame he couldn't be here. My goodness, I haven't even introduced myself; I'm Ryan Sparks. My father, Pastor Sparks, will be here any minute now. He heads the little white church just down the road. I just wanted to welcome Andy Jr. to the neighborhood myself,” he said, looking over and calling to Andy Jr. in his crib. “Your grandmommy told me all about you in church!”

Jessica smiled. “Oh! Of course.”

“And forgive me for being forward, but I gotta say we'd be happy to see you in church every Sunday.”

“Oh, yeah, I—I've been meaning to make a return to church. Especially now that Andy Jr. is here.”

“We do encourage children of every age to come and hear the word! Children from conception and up.”

She sat down in the chair beside the crib.

“So are you… nondenominational?”

“Well, it's Christianity that's nondenominational. You see, trying to divide up the church is simply against the church; there's only one true church, and all that talk about Baptist and Lutheran and all that nonsense is just that—nonsense. At my father's church, we accept anyone of any faith, as long as they believe,” he said, counting on his fingers, “one, that Jesus Christ is our savior; two, one must be baptized to be saved; and three, the Lord hears prayers spoken in tongues. That's the one language that's pure, that the devil can't understand.”

“So…. You take Catholics?”

“Well, we accept all faiths, but not heresy. See, that's a very wrong thing. There's a difference between acceptance and going too far. Are you…?”

“Oh no, only by technicality. Andrew's—my husband Andrew's father is strict Catholic, and they're not on speaking terms. His dad was very insistent we baptize Andrew Jr. Catholic and—”

“Say no more. Seen it a hundred times, and it's a sad, sad thing, but you're doing the right thing now. Yes, yes you are. I tell ya, I don't envy the world your son is going to grow up in. We're one of the last generations. All the signs are here, here for the end of days. Have you read the book of Revelations?”

“The whole Bible, even who begat who. But, you know, I think some in every generation believe they're the last, even in the Gospels—”

“Now that's getting into some technical mumbo jumbo my father can clear up. I myself don't like to read much. I'm all about a
personal
relationship with the Lord. Do you have that, Jessica?”

“I'd like to think so.”

“Well, that's a start, but you need to know so.”

“I do consider myself a Christian.”

“That's good, Jessica. That's good. You should be very thankful for today, for ten fingers and ten toes.”

Ryan looked over to Andrew.

“When was he born exactly?”

“At 5:30 a.m., two days ago. June sixth.”

“That's what your mother said,” he remarked cordially. “Any big birthmarks on his forehead, or his hands?”

“No, no, just the usual tiny spots.”

“None that caught your attention?”

“No, why?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Just wondering. You're both American?”

“And proud of it.”

“I saw a nice bright flag outside.”

“Yep.”

“We're lucky to live here, you know. When the end comes, there's no place I'd rather be.”

“No, I suppose not,” she replied, slightly amused at his apparent apocalyptic preoccupation. They both watched Andy Jr. stir in his crib for a moment. Jessica found the silence a bit awkward and spoke.

“So tell me about your dad.”

“Well, ma'am, he's the most noble man I ever saw, and a good father to boot. He's also a first-rate pastor, and exorcist.”

“Exorcist?”

“Absolutely. Why just this week there was an afflicted man in our congregation, and my father, he put that man on the floor, he grabbed ahold of that demon and told him in the name of Jesus Christ that he would hurt that man no more. And that demon, through the man, he shouted”—Ryan shifted to a mock demonic voice—“‘
You cannot face me, for we are many, our name is Legion, and we will not leave
!' But my father shouted,” Ryan screamed, “‘
In the name of Christ you—
'”

Andy Jr. started crying at Ryan's shout. Ryan stopped and stared at him. “Funny he started crying when I said ‘Christ' there.”

Jessica ran over and held him.

“I think it was just the volume of it all. You have quite a voice.”

“Well, thank you. You know I used to be a musician.”

“Really. So, your father—”

“Oh he cured the man, that's for sure. The man suffered a broken arm and some severe contusions, but he was all right after that, all right in his soul.”

“He broke his arm?”

“An exorcism isn't a pretty matter. You'll see that when you come in.”